Dawn A Glance
by Leara Bribage
Summary: But he couldn't shake the tremor that erupted in his heart when he saw the swirl of blazing emotions in her eyes when they first locked gazes. He knew her name full well, but has only actually seen and talked to her so scantly a time. Enjonine.


**[A/N]: **I did this for a prompt in tumblr. :) Well, originally, this was something similar I'm currently doing for a larger Enjonine fanfic-which is not yet done and published, but since it's my fault, well, I made it different. I hope you like it! Still dedicated to my Enjonine writer idol, **Restless5oul** and the one who requested it, **muftimuffins**. ^_^ Now, enjoy, m'amie! :D

**Disclaimer: **Anything you recognize was never mine to keep. **But I do own the plot and the song Enjolras sings (I made it, so it's not from the play)**. All of this was just done for my leisure and practice for writing, so I do not receive anything in return but reviews. Have fun reading it!

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**"Dawn A Glance"**

_You look at a star from two motives: because it is luminous and because it is impenetrable. You have at your side a softer radiance and a greater mystery: woman. _

_The heart becomes heroic through passion. _

- Marius' Letter to Cosette, _Les Misérables_, **Victor Hugo**

Éponine tried not to bang her head on the wall of the garden where she found the house of the Lark. She took deep breaths, slow and long ones, but it didn't work. Nor would punching or cursing or kicking or spitting on the ground where the innocent Cosette that Marius loved lived. She laughed as she walked through the dark rues of Paris.

The prostitutes, ill ones, other miscreants, and common people gazed at her curiously and sardonically, thinking the poor child had gone _cinglé_*. But the gamine ignored them as she's always done before. Who would care for an urchin who'd they never dare? Shaking her head as she continued to wallow in her misery, she showed and made them think she was glad and celebrating something. Well, what was there to celebrate? Nothing, just the revelation of doom. How cruel life can be, when the one you adore is happy with somebody, somebody who's truly pretty.

They were children together, weren't they? Now, see the outcome of what they've become. Zounds! What harsh life! Éponine cannot cry. She bit her lip to stop herself from trembling. She blinked many times to stop the tears forming in her eyes. To bawl was to admit defeat. She would not bow to this blow. She would not! Not ever.

_Lovely Cosette, lovely Marius, lovely couple, lovely, lovely, lovely…._

The desolate gamine barely managed to impede a cry when her toe hit a sharp stone on the ground. She ignored the pain like she always would and carried on, not feeling the blood gush from her toes. Éponine hunched her shoulders and prepared to enter through the café. She walked through the tables, ignoring the stares of men and glares of the owners. Going to the backdoor, she sped through to the room at its rear. This was where Marius and their coterie** often met.

Éponine walked up the stairs as slowly as she could. She told herself that delaying telling the knowledge the place where Cosette lived would dawdle and weaken Marius' love for the Lark. Not that it would work, but then she'll try. Try, she would. _Oh, Fate, stop your mockery_! She mentally scolded herself. But before she knew it, she was already near the top of the stairs. Sighing inwardly, she looked around for her misery when she suddenly locked gazes with a curly-haired and blonde bourgeois—who was glaring at Marius beforehand and suddenly glanced at her direction.

She felt her breath taken for a second when she thought that the blue eyes went a little softer when recognition flickered in it. This schoolboy suddenly blinked and raised a golden brow at her, as if asking who she was, what was a mademoiselle doing here, and why was she glancing about the room looking for someone. Not that this… this, ah, _marble_ hardly knew who she was, but when she mouthed, 'Marius?', this person named Enjolras made his lips shape into a stern line and looked at Marius, who then saw Éponine. Flashing a smile that would always be able to penetrate into her veins and make her heart pound, the young lawyer strode towards her.

"You know where she is, dear 'Ponine?" Marius asked, grinning like a lover won and his eyes sparkling like a million stars.

Hesitating a little, she nodded. "Yes, M'sieur, the very place, I know. Just the house, though its address is quite unclear to me. But worry not, I know the way about."

"Let's make haste!" he replied, going before her to the end downstairs.

Sighing audibly as she felt her heart die a little every time he took a step, she gazed one more time at the leader of les mis'l abaissé, who managed to witness the interaction between them, and nodded her farewell. Éponine tried not to fall before the intensity of his glance and ignored the faint redness of her cheeks. Walking faster than she did before, she also tried not to notice the clarity of his blue eyes that told her something unknown, hazy, and unclear—something that made the very heart that was breaking more and more go back together.

But she shook her head.

_A young, charming man will never be for me. Not to me, not _ever _for me,_ she reminded herself, thinking of the one her 'adorations' were held. _No, not for a lonely gamine like me. Not ever. _

~oOo~Dawn A Glance~oOo~

Enjolras stared moments at the place where the sullen gamine, who always managed to follow Marius around, had left the half of a half hour ago. Well, he tried not to look like he was thinking of the young lass, so all he could do was a glance between a grimace and glare. His friends surrounded him, after all. It would be a memory to think that their Marble Chief would _actually_ _stare after_ _a lady_. So he kept the fantasy to himself, bottled it, identified it, and stacked it on the topmost part of his shelf, where no one would ever be able to grasp it and spill its contents.

It would humiliate himself, after all, and he tried not to be—it was a skill.

But he couldn't shake the tremor that erupted in his heart when he saw the swirl of blazing emotions in her eyes when they first locked gazes. He knew her name full well, but has only actually seen and talked to her so scantly a time. A few times at Le Musain, often times at Place De La Bastille, other times at Corinthe. She wasn't quite hard to distinguish among the crowds and was just asking for Pontmercy, after all.

_Wait_, _what am I doing_? He berated, asking himself. He looked around him and saw the vivacity of vigor of activities. He felt himself smile a little as he saw Combeferre discussing tactics while arranging pistols with Joly, who was using a white and clean kerchief to clean the guns while he was holding it. He observed the same with the others. He needed a walk to clear his unbidden thoughts of the desolate mademoiselle and check on the preparation of the people downstairs.

"Courfeyrac, take watch over here for me," he told his left hand on the group before he descended through the flight of steps. "I shall be observing the activities of the people below."

His friend nodded and with that, he sped through the stairs and outside the café to do as he said—be it for a minute or so.

Enjolras was welcomed by the warm breeze that was a mixture of vigor and excitement. He shook hands with the fathers and young lads who volunteered for their cause, nodded at the artillery donated for the crusade, and grinned subtly at the feeling of a free world dawning at their fight for tomorrow, which shall just be a day more. But when he passed the humble din for their revolution, he found himself at a bridge thinking nothing of their rebellion and everything of that mademoiselle—not that she wanted to be called such.

The fierce revolutionary closed his eyes and sighed. What was his brain doing to him? He must focus, _focus_ on their crusade, not her, because… _because_ he said so and has rebuked Marius and the others for it! Enjolras clutched at his heart with a hand and grasped the railing of the bridge with the other. So this was what he was talking about? This… this delusion of an illusion that was clouding his vision for France's future!

He looked about him, but of all the things he saw, he dwelt on the night sky—the sky of his Patria. And Enjolras wondered, wondered for the first time seriously, about loving a woman. Truth be revealed, he never found the heart and mind to do so, but… she… Éponine _made_ him think. He was supposed to be concerned of his country land, but here he was concerning himself of a lady!

Enjolras stared at the moon and sang with confusion.

"_O, Patria, _

_Come and gaze at me! _

_Surely, the light will free_

_The shadows of the night_

_From my eyes!_

_I do not understand_

_Nor do I comprehend_

_This feeling I am feeling!_

_What is this shivering_

_Feeling—but now I see,_

_This must be what Marius_

_Was mooning about!" _

Enjolras sighed heavily and really wanted to slap himself because he was _seriously_ losing his mind. He huffed and grunted as he paced hitherto and thereto, thinking, thinking of her! _What jest Grantaire must make of me if he knew of this!_

"_Why do I care_

_About Thérnardier,_

_Éponine that her name is!_

_Why do I feel a bliss_

_When she walks, talks_

_With me, to me!_"

He would rather bang his head on the railing of the bridge, but that would not be a good idea. His strength and wit are needed on their crusade, after all. Instead, he clutched at his hair and grunted once more. Enjolras sighed at his petty dilemma and looked up again. If only she knew what monstrosity she was causing him….

"_Surely, Patria,_

_You'd tell me about it? _

_Women, I can't understand!_

_Nor can I stand_

_This confusing, annoying_

_Feeling I am feeling!_"

This would be the end of him; if it weren't for the rebellion they would wage war upon the National Guards. All of this hysteria just because he saw her return those glances in a short matter of time, which, dare he foolishly dream, hoped was longer. If… this was what they call 'love', why, then, the marble heart of this fine statue was cracked—open and longing.

He stopped pacing.

On the contrary… he knew that Éponine was struck by Marius. However, she reciprocated a little of his gazes. She might have looked sad, but that was because of Pontmercy; on the other hand, Enjolras saw the reflection of his own face on hers—incarnadine and subtly embarrassed. Abruptly, he remembered Courfeyrac jesting with Bahorel, saying, "Oh, women, how they prance about!" He had chastely gazed down and continued what he was reading of his manuscript since then. He used to resent them for that, silently rebuking, "Was that the only subject they loved to talk of? Hilarity, then, they are."

Enjolras started walking back to Café Le Musain. He started and wanted to think no more of the lonely mademoiselle, but vowed that he would fight for people like her fiercely tomorrow. Oh, and what a joy would it be if she should join the battle for liberty by his side.

It was then, he realized, that his soul wasn't quite lonely at all.

He suddenly grasped at the knowledge that their little lives did matter, after all.

Little did the Marble Leader know that a new world was dawning upon his soul… and little did he see what powers a glance can give and take….

_Le Fin_

~oOo~Dawn A Glance~oO~

*Cinglé – someone who's crazy, lunatic, loony, nutty, cracked, or bonkers (crazy for British).

**Coterie – a clique; a group of people who often meet together.

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**[A/N]:** Enjoyed it, m'amie? Oh, and **I do not have plans of turning this into a multi chapter since this is just a prompt, and for me, they're like one-shots, that's why I treat them that way. But don't worry, I will be writing an Enjonine longer than this one, so keep watch for that. And, yes, something like this may appear in that one, but different, and more serious.** Oh, muftimuffins and Liz, you two just made my day wonderful. Lovely reviews, lovely... So if you review, I'll love you back, too! ^_^


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